What does it take to run a pub in New Zealand’s rural towns? Above all else, you need the warmth of a country publican.
“You have to be a people person,” Pravesh Kumar said.
He and wife Monika took over the Darfield Hotel three years ago, after moving from Hawke’s Bay.
It was a gamble — moving to a small town with no connections.
Originally from Haryana in India, Kumar recalls being nervous about how locals would take to him acquiring the pub.
“I was scared to be honest. But once the ice broke, I found out — it’s a different language, different culture, but all the values are the same.”
He and Monika are already investing back into the hotel building, which hosts a pub, restaurant, and accommodation. A hospo success story at a time when thousands of businesses are closing up shop.
He attributed that success to his “grandma’s house” approach as a publican — providing hearty meals over bar snacks, and getting to know his patrons.
“You look after your people, your people look after you,” he said.
The Kumar’s story mirrors those of rural publicans across Aotearoa, according to Peter Janssen who authored New Zealand Pubs. The book recounts his journey through 170 historic New Zealand pubs.
“I like the story of the pubs, and I like what they’ve meant to New Zealand over the last 150 years,” he told Country Life.
At the heart of pubs that had survived over the decades were social, outgoing publicans, he said.
“You’ve got to have a sit and have a chat to that boring man sitting there on his own having a beer; you’re the heart of the community.”
While such pubs have always been watering holes for rural communities, the clientele have changed in the last few decades — as have their demands.
“The traditional image of the pub is, you know, a couple of old blokes sitting around a jug of beer,” he said.
“Now, young people don’t want to do that. And actually, most people, older people don’t want to do that anyway.
“And the pubs that were surviving on that sort of trend and tradition have not survived.”
The pubs who have survived have broadened their drink and food offerings — like the Rotherham Hotel in North Canterbury.
Owner Keith Fenwick, locally “Kiwi Keith”, said food makes up about half of its business these days.
“Years ago it was beer, it was about 90 percent … it was beer for breakfast, dinner, and tea.
“Beer consumption has just dropped right away, especially during the day.”
The hotel now operates as a cafe during the daytime, with offerings like burgers, coffees, ice cream, and homemade soup.
For over 40 years, Fenwick has lived and worked in the hotel with the help of his wife, Moira.
Between cleaning rooms and serving patrons, he finds time to get out among the plants — he’s a market gardener by trade.
He’d hoped to find more time for the garden in 2017, when he first put the hotel up for sale — but 10 years on, it’s still on the market.
There are peak busy periods — like the Amuri A & P show in March, and the North Canterbury Hunting Competition in July — but managing quiet periods and increased costs is a juggling act.
It’s not easy, Fenwick said, but it was a rewarding job for those suited to the role of a publican.
“It is a good business; we’ll hang in there till something happens.”
Janssen said it’s often the publican that makes or breaks a country pub’s success.
“You’ve got to be calm, you’ve got to be organised, and you’ve got to like people; It’s a great lifestyle if you’re really keen.
“There’s one called the Silver Stream Hotel in Kimbell, near Fairlie, where a young couple took it over and just turned it around.
“It’s a fantastic pub, but that was a deliberate choice about a lifestyle they wanted to lead.”
Donna Hall and Jim McDougall of the Strath Taieri Hotel made that same choice last year, taking on a pub for the sake of its community.
After sitting on the market for a while, and failing to renew its liquor licence, the pub closed for five weeks in 2025.
Locals approached McDougall, who’d run pubs in his past and was “born and bred in Middlemarch”, to give this one a second life.
“It was important to him for the community … if the pub closed there was not much chance of something opening anytime soon, if at all, that could replace the [hotel],” Hall told Country Life.
“A commitment that Jim and I made when we bought the pub [was] that we’d be open every day, and that we would have longer hours and we’d be consistent.
“Which often means the staff don’t have a lot to do, but we want to make it a place that people know they can come and and get a meal any time of the day.”
Situated in hill country an hour from Dunedin, the hotel is a gathering spot for remote farming families, contract shearers and the local Young Farmers club.
“We try and support as many community groups as we can through the pub, through sponsorship, you know, and that’s pretty special,” Hall said.
What comes around goes around — when rural publicans support their community, that community will support them back, Janssen said.
“If you’ve got people who are outgoing and have a sense of community, they will attract people to the pub.”
Janssen said while the nature of country pubs may have changed — food over beer and families alongside mates — their role in uniting communities remains the same.
“They are much more community minded, they’re serving a better range of drinks, they’re serving a good range of food. They’re just much nicer places to be.
“If you’ve got a good country pub and you live in the countryside, support it, because you don’t know what you’ve lost till it’s gone.
